


Waking Up Married

by Mix Stitch (Synph)



Category: DCU (Comics)
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Accidental Marriage, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Drinking, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-02
Updated: 2014-06-02
Packaged: 2018-02-03 04:08:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1730609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Synph/pseuds/Mix%20Stitch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s the morning after his best friend’s bachelorette party in Vegas and Dick Grayson wakes up with the mother of all hangovers. Even worse, he’s in a stranger’s penthouse having woken up with something else as well - a funny, arrogant, sexy…husband!</p><p>Up until now, finding even a boyfriend had seemed impossible - been there, got the broken heart, sworn off dating for good. Then a few martinis with Bryce…no, Bruce Wayne and he’s gone from first meet to marriage in one night!</p><p>Dick wants a lawyer. But Bruce’s shocking bombshell?</p><p>"I don’t want a divorce."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Waking Up Married

**Author's Note:**

> This was the original story I started for Unconventional Courtship but then I couldn’t get it where I wanted it so I gave in to the Thor/Ororo. Summary from Waking Up Married by Mira Lyn Kelly. ~~Technically~~ Totally unfinished.
> 
> ETA: I didn't realize how unfinished it was actually. Thank you all that pointed out I straight up left a sentence unfinished at the end (and probably in the middle too, but that's a different issue).

To Dick, breakfast as a married man doesn’t feel any different from the breakfasts he’s had as a perpetually single one.

Dick thinks a lot of things as he watches his new husband absently flip through the newspaper that had been sent up with room service, but the thing at the forefront of his mind is how downright normal this all seems.  

After the whirlwind events of the night before (the shots he barely remembers downing at Kory’s bachelorette party and the lapdance he  _definitely_  doesn’t remember giving), sitting across from a guy like Bruce with a sapphire-covered wedding band weighing down the ring finger on his left hand should probably feel weird. They should both be dancing around each other, feeling the weight of the sort of bad decisions that only seem to happen in places like Las Vegas.

Instead, they’re sitting down and eating a downright  _wholesome_  breakfast as though they’re not going to have to rush down to city hall the second that it opens to get this hot mess of a marriage annulled.

Of course, Dick keeps forgetting that if something seems too good to be true, then it probably isn’t.

"I can feel you staring at me," Bruce says, speaking up while Dick is in the middle of panicking about  _not_ panicking.

His deep voice slices through the silence and Dick doesn’t eventry to hide the way he flinches at the sudden noise. When Dick drops his fork to the plate with a clatter, Bruce merely snorts and rests his paper down beside his half-cleared plate of whatever it is that rich guys like that order for breakfast.

"I know we don’t know each other very well yet, but I promise you that I don’t bite," Bruce says, picking up on Dick’s nervousness easily enough. The corners of Bruce’s thin-lipped mouth quirk up with a smile that makes Dick feel like ducking his head and blushing. "Not unless you ask me to of course."

Dick feels his face warm with that unwanted blush and he curls his fingers against the edge of the plate in front of him.  

"You  _can_  just talk to me,” Bruce says in a dry tone that’s far cry from the amusement that had bled into it mere moments before. “You know that right?”

But no, Dick doesn’t know shit.

Because before last night, things like this only happened in rom-coms and the soap operas that coworkers blasted in the break room no matter what time of the day it was. Things like getting drunk-married to a guy with more money than God in Vegas just don’t happen to guys like Dick.

So no, Dick doesn’t know that he can just talk to Bruce because this sort of thing has never happened to Dick before.

And, if not for the sharply sour taste of grapefruit juice on his tongue and the ache in his limbs, Dick would think that he’s halfway through the world’s most embarrassing dream instead of sitting down at a mostly peaceful breakfast with his new husband.

Silence stretches between them as Dick stares at Bruce and Bruce stares right back at him. Dick licks his lips with a quick flick of his tongue, not missing the way that Bruce’s dark gaze falls, almost predictably, down to his mouth.

"What time can we go in for the annulment?"

Dick asks the question before he realizes he’s even opened his mouth. He can’t lie and say that no, he hasn’t been thinking about what comes next (because he has), but when Bruce’s face falls enough that Dick notices it, he feels like a heel.

Backpedaling quickly, Dick blurts out the next thing that comes to mind in order to wipe that disappointed look off Bruce’s handsome face.

"I mean — who’d want to stay married to me," he says, forcing a smile onto his face. "Look at us! I’m a gym teacher from Bludhaven and you’re… really rich if this suite is anything to go by. I thought you’d be jumping to get out of this mess…" Dick leans back in his chair and then gestures at Bruce with one hand curved in what would be a casual motion if not for the obvious way that his fingers shake. "I mean — look at you. Guys like you don’t go for guys like me unless you’re  _really_  drunk. Look at last night.”

Bruce frowns. “Excuse me?”

"Last night was a mistake. You know it. I know it." Dick bites at the inside of his bottom lip before looking up at Bruce’s suddenly unreadable face. "We should just go in and get the thing reversed before it’s too late."

"That… that might be a little hard to do," Bruce says, watching Dick as though he’s expecting him to get up and bolt in that very next second. He reaches for his mostly untouched glass of water and takes what seems to be a fortifying sip of liquid before setting it down on the table.

Dick doesn’t know how to respond. He stares at Bruce, feeling his heart leap within his chest.

"Wh-what?" He clears his throat when the question seems to catch. "What are you talking about?"

"City Hall won’t be open again until Monday."

Bruce at least has the presence of mind to look apologetic.

"But it’s Friday," Dick says with an uncontrollable note of panic in his voice. "Shouldn’t it be open today?"

"Not in Vegas," Bruce murmurs and there’s something about the way he says it that feels like the final straw for Dick.  "They believe in a three-day weekend over here."

He can’t sit across from Bruce and his quiet air of know-it-all -ness any longer. Dick bolts up from the dining room table in Bruce’s painfully expensive suite and slams his hands against the top of the table.

"I’m going to go find my phone," Dick says, announcing that instead of whatever too-mean thing is lingering at the very tip of his tongue. "I need to let my friends know I’m not dead in a ditch somewhere."

The semi-shifty look on Bruce’s face doesn’t abate.

"I’m sure they know," Bruce says quietly. He doesn’t meet Dick’s eyes when Dick raises one eyebrow at him and puts his hands on his hips.

Dick barely manages to fight back the urge to shout at the man across from him.

"What are you talking about?"

Bruce rises to his feet, glowering at Dick the whole time. “You don’t remember?”

"Remember what?" Dick gasps and then jabs one finger in Bruce’s direction. "What the hell did you make me do?"

Bruce’s top lip curls with disgust for one painful moment before his features smooth out to careful neutrality.

"Getting married last night was your idea," he growls with fire flashing in his eyes. "Not mine. We were both drunk, I’ll give you that, but this whole thing was your idea up to and including pulling your two friends from their bachelorette party to serve as our witnesses."

The simmering anger in Bruce’s voice startles Dick, but not as much as the realization that Dick doesn’t really remember anything past his first round of drinks does.

"There’s no way I did that," Dick insists.

"I have a wedding license that says otherwise," Bruce says. "As does the wedding video on my phone." Bruce stuffs one massive hand into the pocket of his jeans and pulls out a gleaming black phone that makes Dick’s three-month-old Starkphone look obsolete. When he tosses it across the table, Dick has to scramble to catch it before it hits the top of the table.

Dick clutches the phone to his chest. “What am I supposed to do with this?”

When Bruce shrugs, the material of his shirt stretches with the motion and Dick’s eyes can’t focus on anything aside from how good Bruce makes that plain white tee look.

"Watch the video," Bruce says. "It might help."

"Help what," Dick says in a snide tone that quickly ratchets up to something just a hair shy of a shout as Dick really gets going. "It sure as hell isn’t going to fix the fact that I’m married to someone that I don’t freakin’ know!"

Dick’s fingers flex against Bruce’s phone, pressing in against cold metal until he can hear the phone creak underneath his grip. The reminder that he’s halfway to crushing someone else’s phone is what gets him, and Dick sighs softly, frowning down at his hands. “I’ll watch the damn video.”

*

Dick watches the video of their wedding while sitting in a corner of the suite’s massive bathroom. He watches it three times and it still doesn’t ping any buttons. Dick doesn’t remember any of this.

He doesn’t remember getting dressed up in spiffy new formalwear.

He doesn’t remember Barbara walking him down the aisle.

And he certainly doesn’t remember grabbing Bruce and pulling him into the mother of all kisses while their sparse audience hoots at them.

The next thing that Dick does, after the humiliation of watching himself make a fool of himself in a cheap-o wedding chapel fades somewhat, is call his best friends.

*

"Why didn't you stop me from getting married?" Dick asks Kory the second that she answers Barbara's phone, hissing the words as though speaking softly will make everything seem less real. Less like he's married to some guy that could buy and sell the Bludhaven School District if he wanted.


End file.
